“I’m so glad, Olly,” cried the stout youth. “When I saw you go over my heart jumped right into my mouth, just as if I was going myself. Crickety! but it was a nasty fall and no mistake!”
In half an hour Oliver arose slowly to his feet. As he had said, he ached in every joint, and his head, too, felt queer, but otherwise he was all right.
“But I never want another such tumble,” he declared. “I shall never forget it if I live to be a hundred years old!”
At the specified time Cottle came back. He had succeeded in turning the mules, and had found a much better path a little to the northward.
“Then we might as well go on,” said Oliver; “there is no use in wasting time here.”
“Do you feel able to go on?” asked Gus.
“I think so. We can try it any way.”
Mr. Whyland could not help but smile at the boy’s determination.
“You have lots of backbone!” he declared. “Well, since you say so, we will go on; but if you find it hurts you, don’t hesitate to speak.” And up to the path above they went, and then back to where Cottle had left the mules.